


Scent

by MsImpala67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Job, Bottom!Sam, Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sam kind of topping from the bottom, Wincest - Freeform, jealous!Sam, possessive!Sam, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 09:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10896609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsImpala67/pseuds/MsImpala67
Summary: Dean comes back to the motel smelling like someone other than Sam. Sam fixes that.





	Scent

Dean comes in late, so late that Sam almost considers pretending to be asleep. But they never really sleep anyway, and he’s not some worried boyfriend trying to play it cool, so he just sits up when the motel door finally opens.   


“Hey.”  


“Hey,” Dean whispers. He seems caught off guard, but he’s walking perfectly straight and not slurring his words, so Sam knows he’s sober.   


“You okay?”  


Dean nods as he sits down on the edge of his bed to kick his feet out of his boots. “Awesome. Won two hundred dollars off some guy who thought he could shoot.”  


Sam rolls his eyes, even as his body reacts to the thought of Dean bending over a pool table, smirking a little at the man who has no idea how badly he’s about to lose.   


Sam swings his legs over the side of the bed to mirror Dean, watching as he lazily undresses, lets his clothes fall into rumpled heaps at his feet until he’s wearing only his boxer briefs. He breathes deeper when he catches the scent, trying to figure out what it is. “What’s...what’s that smell?”  


Dean grins a little, mouth smugly turning up at the edges the way it does when he’s proud of himself. “Me.”  


Sam gets up and stands in front of Dean, sniffing in earnest now. It’s sultry and sexy, definitely feminine, the kind of perfume that men actually enjoy smelling on a woman’s skin. “So, when you say you had an awesome night, you mean…”  


“I mean that I had an awesome night. Her name was Becca. She had this tiny little patch of freckles right above her-”  


“Gross, Dean.”  


Sam sits back down on his own bed, shoulders straight and rigid now, looking at his hands.  


“Aww,” Dean teases. “Someone jealous?”  


“What if I am? You come back smelling like perfume and pussy, how am I supposed to react?”  


Dean’s face turns from a playful smirk to wide-eyed surprise at Sam’s mood.   


Sam takes that opportunity. He slides back on the bed, turns and lies down on his back, head turned so he can still look at Dean. “Tell me about her. Was she small? Soft and curvy?”  


Slowly, Dean leans forward, eyes like lasers mapping out every inch of Sam’s body. “Yeah,” he tells him. “Nice ass. Enough to really grab onto.”  


Sam runs a hand down his chest, over the strip of stomach showing between his t-shirt and the hem on his sweatpants. Dean follows the movement with those laser eyes, watching closely. “And was she smooth? Legs shaved? Soft skin?”  


Dean nods yes, swallows hard as Sam pulls the t-shirt over his head, then shimmies his way out of his sweatpants and underwear.   


“And is that really what you want?” Slowly, he runs his hand over his stomach again, moving lower until it grazes over his cock. “Wouldn’t you rather have something a little rougher? Harder?”  


Dean shrugs as if he doesn’t care, but his knuckles are white on his knees now as they dig in.   


“And wouldn’t you rather smack into something hard and solid when you fuck? Wouldn’t you rather have someone who can take it as hard as you can give it?”  


Dean licks his lips when Sam wraps his hand around his own cock and strokes, coaxing it to stand up against is lower stomach, hard and throbbing.   


“I might,” Dean finally allows.  


Sam smirks, knowing he’s won.   


“Tell me,” he says, rolling over, stretching his back like a cat and letting Dean get a full view of his ass, “was she as good as you’re used to?”  


He rolls off the bed, crawls on his knees the couple of feet until he’s between Dean’s legs. His hands reach out, start at Dean’s knees and run up his bare thighs, squeezing at the thick muscle.   


“Did she take her time? Tease you like this first?” Sam runs a hand over Dean’s groin, palming at him through his underwear, feeling how hard he already is.   


He leans down and noses around, kissing and sucking at Dean through the material. He can’t smell her perfume here, just the scent of sex. Which means her neck and hands and anywhere else women normally spray perfume didn’t touch him here. How boring. “No,” he says, satisfied, as he leans back on his heels. “She didn’t do this. So your night couldn’t have been that awesome.”  


“You wanna change that, Sammy?” Dean asks, breathing hard now.  


“No. I want to kneel here while _you_ change it.” Sam crawls back a step to give Dean room, then waits.  


Dean stands up, unceremoniously pulling off his underwear, and then he’s right there, hard cock pulsing right at Sam’s lips. Sam groans a little when he shifts his hips, drags his cock across Sam’s cheek and chin before pushing at his mouth.   


Sam opens up, tongue warm and wet, ready for Dean. He relaxes his throat and takes Dean all the way down, until his nose is pressed against Dean’s stomach and he can feel his balls against his chin.   


No, Becca didn’t do this. This is something only Sam can do.  


For a moment, Sam wonders if Dean’s showered. He might be licking her off of Dean right now. He actually kind of hopes he is. He wants to erase every little part of her.   


Dean fucks into his mouth slowly, concentrating on going deep rather than fast. Sam lets him, hollows his cheeks, sucks when he can, not caring how messy or sloppy it gets. That’s the whole point.   


Eventually, Dean breaks away, two fingers under Sam’s chin pulling his face up. 

“Jesus, Sammy,” he growls. “I should get laid more often if it gets you this riled up.”  


“Because it’s me, right?,” Sam asks, needy now. “Because you want me more.”  


Dean walks in a circle around Sam, stopping when he’s standing behind him. When he talks again, he’s on his knees, mouth right against Sam’s ear. “Yeah, Sammy. I want you more. More’n anyone else.”  


Sam shivers at that, at the words and at Dean’s hands sliding up and over his ribcage, circling over his stomach and then pulling back and down over his hips. He digs in and pulls Sam’s ass back, lets the head of his cock rub up and down between Sam’s cheeks.   


“I can take it harder than she can,” Sam tells Dean. “I can make you feel so much better than she did. Tell me what you want.”  


Dean groans a little, pushes his body forward so that Sam falls forward to his hands and knees. “I want to fuck you.”  


Sam listens as Dean shuffles around a little, grabbing the lube from the nightstand where it still sits from last night. He hears the click as it opens, hears the slick sound as Dean rubs his hands together, spreading it over his fingers, probably over his cock too.  


Sam just waits, head hung and eyes closed, heart racing and breath coming hard and fast.   


“Yeah, I want to fuck you,” Dean repeats, fingers sliding over Sam’s hole so lightly it almost tickles. “Want to do all kinds of things to you that I wouldn’t do to her.”  


“Do it,” Sam urges, almost begs.   


Dean’s fingers slide into Sam, who’s already mostly loose and open, always ready for Dean. Sam groans as Dean doesn’t go slow. He just pushes up and into Sam’s prostate, rubs against it mercilessly.  


“She didn’t make as much noise as you do,” Dean tells him. Sam hadn’t even realized he’d been moaning. “She sighed and moaned, but it was all quiet. Ladylike.”  


Sam grunts as Dean adds a third finger, then grits words out through clenched teeth. “You like the noise.”  


Dean pulls his fingers away and scoots closer, legs pressed against Sam’s. “I like knowing how good I make you feel.”  


Sam gasps as Dean pushes in, not particularly fast or slow, just steady, burying himself. It feels so full, no matter how many times they do this. It always surprises Sam, makes him feel stretched beyond his breaking point, totally at Dean’s mercy.   


“You want me to fuck you harder than I fucked her?” Dean’s voice is a little lower now, a little hoarse.   


“Don’t you want to?” Sam curls his fingers into the scratchy carpet and concentrates on talking, on getting the words out. “Don’t you want fuck someone who can handle you?”  


“Christ, Sammy.”   


Dean’s hands tighten on Sam’s hips as he pulls back, then slams back in _hard_. It shoves Sam forward a little, and he has to readjust, to brace himself as Dean pulls back again.   


There’s no holding back. Sam holds on as Dean pounds into him, groaning and grunting, a few drops of sweat dripping down to Sam’s back. Sam does his best to push back with each thrust, to take him deeper, to feel it just a little more. It almost hurts, is almost too much, and Sam wants it that way, wants to feel where Dean’s been for days afterward.   


Just when Sam’s almost sobbing with it, when he’s burning up from the inside out and the pressure is about to push him over, Dean pulls away.   


“Come here.”  


Dean stretches out on the bed, and Sam jumps up, climbs over his lap eagerly, rubbing their dicks together for a second. Dean looks up at him, lips parted and skin flushed, as he repositions them, lines himself up so that Sam can sink down on him.   


“You want me to ride you?” Sam asks. “Is that another thing your Becca wouldn’t do? Too shy to be on top?”  


“She’s not _my_ Becca,” Dean pants. “You’re the only one that’s mine.”  


It sounds possessive and arrogant, almost like a challenge. But it still washes over Sam like poetry, like the sweetest words that have ever been said.   


He’s moving then, grinding and circling and bouncing, working them both into a frenzy of clawing hands and sweaty kisses and almost screams.   


Eventually, Dean reaches out and wraps a hand around Sam’s cock. Sam can only handle a couple of strokes. “Don’t,” he pleads. “Not yet.”  


Dean nods, moves his hand, then flips them both to get back on top. Sam reaches his hands above his head, groans when Dean grabs his wrists and holds them there, slamming into him again, as fast as he can.   


“You take it so good,” he growls, “so much better than anyone else.”  


Sam could come untouched at the praise, but he holds on, does his best to control himself. He leans up, ignoring how that presses his cock against Dean’s stomach, and starts erasing her. He licks at Dean, rubs his sweaty hair into Dean’s neck, making sure that his scent is the only one left on Dean’s skin.   


It doesn’t take long for Dean to come. It’s at least the second time he’s come that night, maybe more than that, but Sam is certain it’s the hardest. His whole body shakes as he pulses into Sam, as he lets out the most intense and guttural groan Sam’s ever heard.   


Sam watches, satisfied with the knowledge that Dean never lost it like this with her, that his eyes never rolled back in his head and he never collapsed afterward to catch his breath.   


Sam lies there, the weight of Dean crushing him, the feel of Dean’s softening cock still twitching every now and then. And then he shifts his hips. His cock is trapped now, and each movement rubs it against their sweaty stomachs. It only takes a couple of thrusts, and Sam is coming, too, desperately, clinging to Dean, sobbing his name as Dean holds him down, grounds him.   


It takes at least ten minutes for either of them to move. They’re a sticky mess now, but Sam doesn’t care.   


“Come on, come shower with me,” Dean says, a little gentle now as he kisses the corner of Sam’s mouth.   


Sam returns the kiss, but wraps his arms around Dean and pulls him back down. 

“Just another couple of minutes,” he says, breathing deep.   


He can’t smell the perfume anymore.  


He can only smell himself and Dean. Which have been pretty much the same scent since they were kids.   


Just like it should be.   


And Sam just wants to lie there and breathe it in. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! XOXO


End file.
